Here is a story based on fact, something that happened in San Francisco in 1968..."Chick Evens," said the short man. "Yaw," said Evens...

Behind the jukebox, where the two bathrooms are, alongside the bathrooms is a corridor, that leads to the back door of the bar, you can leave by that way, but you can't come in that way, it leads to the street. The walls are plain, no paintings or anything. It is near closing of the same evening, now night. The bar is light lightly, softer music is being played, people are drunker up what they have left, gulping it down, resting their elbows on the bar, the bar closes at 1:00 p.m., the last call for drinks has been called already, and it is twenty-minutes to one. Chick inhales his 57th cigarette for the day, slowly and then puts it out in a nearby ashtray. Then whipping his hands onto his trousers, he leans back, stretches his legs, and waits.

Chick Evens had come back from Seattle, Washington, in the spring of 1968, he and his friend Jeff Bird were to go there on an adventure, meet his Navy friend, and return back to Minnesota, a year or so later, but Jeff ended up taking his wife, and she ended up taking her two kids, and he didn't feel like helping the family raising them, and Jeff's wife was giving him a lot of demands, if not odd impressions. So he returned early, got out of Dodge like they say, while the getting was good. And now he was back in the neighborhood, where the houses were all clustered about in no general design.

It was mid afternoon at the Minnesota State Fair, it was late summer and three of the boys from Donkeyland: Donny Manning a tall thin bean like boy, with long arms and long legs, (Earnest Manning's boy, the same age as Chick Evens, fourteen, nearer to fifteen), and Andy, a small boy, light on his feet, and that looked under fed, and hobo like, also the same age as the other two, had bought their tickets to the State Fair, went and seen the fat lady, and poked around the midway area. The day had been clear of clouds, and it was drenching hot to the point it was sticky, dusty and sweat rolled off them like Niagara Falls, under the passing sun, setting their skin ablaze, they all wanted cool off.

From their embankment seats, sat RG, Doug, Roger, Ace, Chick Evens, and they were having a contest who could drink the fastest, and they had a case of beer and two bottles of Thunderbird Wine. The embankment was rough, the railroad below them, and Larry's house to the left of them, and Acker Street, just over the embankment, there they sat, in the dirt and foliage out of sight of the police, everyone had their heels kicked into the dirt, and the bottles of beer were being passed about like...